So.. after a lot of thought, I decided to end this work here. I'm sorry. I considered outright deleting it, but I thought ending it here would at least leave what is here for the people who want to what's there.

When I started this piece, it was to help myself cope. I wrote this little snippet of the story in the beginning, what I intended to be plot near the end, as a sort of.. "what I wished happened" and it was just really therapeutic. I'm giving you that scene as well, because you deserve at least a little more, and I'm sorry I can't finish the story. What started out as therapeutic has become a chore and somewhat depressing, as any time I come back to it I start to feel sad and remorseful. I've moved past it, and this is me, formally letting go...

In context, Jack and Mark grow a lot in the kink world, and at some part it becomes a little muck for Mark, who gets cold feet. Mark starts slowly drawing back, and then when it becomes a bigger issue, decides he needs to leave the relationship so that Jack can get what he needs elsewhere, because Mark can't provide it for him.


It was like a gut punch; watching the man you love holding a box of his things at his hips while starting back at you with a look of utter remorse. Neither of them wanted this. Jack didn't want to see Mark go. Not after everything they'd been through. He'd finally found his Daddy. A Daddy who had promised that he'd never leave but now stood there, calm as could be, with one foot out the door. Jack fought every screaming voice ordering him to latch onto Mark and beg him not to go. He couldn't. The tears were harder to fight off than the urges, and Jack knew he'd failed when Mark set his box down on the ground beside their feet and took Jack's wet face in his hands.

"You'll be okay baby, I promise." He smoothed the raised hair on the side of Jack's face before planting a tender, warm, drawn out kiss atop his forehead, "This is for the better, remember?"

"No..." Jack frowned, voice straining with the heartache he felt, "This... This doesn't feel like 'better'."

Mark smiled with such a bittersweet sadness that Jack had to turn away. He hid his face in his shoulder, arms clenched tightly at his sides as Mark picked up the box once more. He felt the air leave his lungs as the proximity between them was lost and Mark took his first few steps away from the door. Jack could feel every inch he moved away... like some part of Jack was being dragged out with him. No. He couldn't go. Daddies were supposed to stay forever. They were supposed to take care of you.

This was not 'better'.

Jack would rather take him, faults, inexperience and all, than go through this. They could work through their differences and grow together in this confusing world. Dynamics didn't have to end just because one partner was ahead of the other. He could teach Mark what he needed and Mark could teach him what he needed from Jack. This was not better. Not at all.

Jack thought his fingers might crack from the pressure as he clenched harder, forcing his voice to leave his throat. He couldn't breathe. His head had begun to pound, but every second he fought with himself Mark was another step away from him. He raised his head and let the tears fall, all of his emotions finally flooding out of him like a tidal wave. His voice came out a hoarse croak, but he forced the word out anyway.

"...Red."

Mark's walking slowed.

He came to a full stop before half turning back towards Jack with the saddest expression Jack had ever seen, "Oh, baby..."

"Red." he tried again, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop as he began openly sobbing, "R-red. Red. Red..."

"Jack..."

"You have to stop when I say red." Jack blubbered, his face now cold with streaks of tears and a little snot, "You- You have to stop when I say red! I-I want it to stop!" he brought his hands up to his face, trying to wipe away the mess as his words began to catch on hiccups and his body started to jerk with every sob, "Red!"

Warm arms were enveloping him in an instant. Mark had him pressed against his chest, nearly crushing him with his tight grip, "Baby, it's okay. Shh, it's alright, please don't cry."

"Daddy..." he sobbed, clinging to Mark's shirt and burying himself as far in as he could, "Daddy you can't go. I d- I don't want that, please."

"Oh, baby boy..."

"I don't care if you're inexperienced, I don't care if it takes a while for us to get it right, you're the only Daddy I want! Please! I don't want anyone else! Please Daddy, don't go!"

Mark had started rocking him, one arm wrapped around his torso as the other pet his hair, "Okay. It's okay. Please don't cry, alright? Daddy doesn't like to see you cry."

"Please Daddy..." Jack whimpered, long since past pride.

"Jack, hey, look at me."

Jack raised his head, heartbroken, hopeless, and wished, with all his might, that things might be okay now. That his Daddy would stay, understand that he couldn't lose him...

Mark inhaled, and opened his mouth to say it.

Jack let his shoulders drop, and cried.